


Nail Biters and Clean Freaks Got Nothing On Me

by Hot_Damn_its_Kam



Series: Hamilton One Shots Literally No One Asked For [6]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Oops I made Tomas an asshole how original wow, Workplace AU, Workplace Violence/Abuse IG?, tw homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:34:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29155137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hot_Damn_its_Kam/pseuds/Hot_Damn_its_Kam
Summary: (If you're wondering where the hell the title came from, it's from my poetry journal and is probablyyy noooot at all related to this story but I liked the line so I'm keeping it =D)Dialogue Prompt - "I hope someday you get a taste of your own medicine.":Laurette because yes. Tw for homophobia/slurs. This was just a random thing I did oops.
Relationships: John Laurens/Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette
Series: Hamilton One Shots Literally No One Asked For [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2139402
Comments: 5
Kudos: 5





	Nail Biters and Clean Freaks Got Nothing On Me

If you had told high school John that his career would allow him to draw and create colorful graphics outside of freelancing, he'd probably scoff at you. Tell you that Law was the only viable career choice for him. If you had told high school John that he was gay, that he would would start his career happily engaged to a dashing young Frenchman, he'd have spit on you, or slapped you across the face.

But this is 26 year old John. This is openly gay, happily engaged to a dashing young Frenchman, Graphic Designer John. And he was so much happier. Or, at least he used to be.

John got home late that night, tossing his laptop bag haphazardly onto the kitchen table, barely caring about the sizable thunk his iPad made as it hit the wood.

"John, Darling?"

Lafayette's sweet voice called him from the bedroom. John squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose tightly. He knew Lafayette always meant well, but he had a headache and he was tired and fucking Thomas Jefferson didn't know when to shut the fuck up.

Lafayette peeped out, his bright smile quickly replaced with deep concern, his eyes practically shining as he moved forward slightly, hesitating when he realizes how tense the air around John was. 

"Mon cœr? What's happened? You're over an hour late!"

"I'm fine," John assured, his voice straining. He really didn't want to do this right now, "Just... long day. That's all."

Laf made his way over to where John was standing in the entryway, wrapping him in a tight hug, hands beginning to rub Johns back. "Well, I did some cleaning, all the bedding has been washed. Would you like to watch a movie?"

John shook his head, the hug slowly draining the tension from his body, the feeling of Laf's hands warming the skin of his back, and the sensation spreading to his soul, it feels. "I'd love to, but I'm not feeling so great. I'm probably just gonna take an Advil and go to bed."

"Without eating, mon cher?"

John just grunted and shrugged.

He ended up falling asleep in his dress shirt and slacks.

But of course when he woke, his fiancé had bundled him under the comforter, and John felt loved. 

It had been happening for weeks. John coming home frustrated, drained, and he knew that Lafayette knew. He felt bad for pushing him away. He knew how easily Lafayette could get lonely. He hated himself for it.

Now, though, he sat in his cubicle, Macintosh too bright and iPad in front of him, with a blank Photoshop screen.

He noticed something blocking the pharmaceutical-type lights from above him, smelling a familiar, overwhelming, and quite frankly, stinky cologne.

John closed his eyes, feeling a headache immediately beginning to creep into his temples and behind his eyes, and steadied himself, "Yes, Thomas?"

"Oh, nothing, just checking on your project for the political column, how's progress?"

"Just a bit of Artist's block, but I just started." John said, keeping his tone even.

Thomas hummed, scanning the small office, "Well, I think if you want to prove that you're actually worthy of being here and not some 'diversity' gimmick, you better get to work. You know they hired you right after-"

"Right after the CEO was fired for saying 'faggot' on live television, yes, I recall. You feel the need to tell me every hour." John said, the tingle of rage beginning to bubble in his chest.

Thomas' smirk turned sour, "Hey, don't talk to me like that, queer."

John rolled his eyes, "For someone so worried about my productivity, you sure are good at maintaining pointless conversation. You don't intimidate me. Sorry." He clipped, turning back to his computer.

Thomas made a move John's tea mug on the desk, still steaming hot. He made a grand sweeping motion, the beverage dumping straight onto John's iPad and gushing onto his lap.

He hissed in pain, jumping up and swiping at his pants, "Goddamnit!! What the hell?!"

"Oops," Thomas said slyly, sauntering away.

"Fuckin', whatever. It's fine.” John just sighed, and headed to the break room to collect a wad of paper towels. Much less worried about the moisture seeping into the carpet, John moved to cleaning off his iPad. He pressed the home button a few times, then holding the power button down. No apple emblem appearing, “Oh god it won't turn on!! It's brand new! Damnit!” 

His boss sent him home early, with little of an apology.

Typically when John cried, it was out of anger, not sadness. Feelings of rage would build up in volume, becoming an overwhelming pressure, until the emotion was impossible to contain.

So when John came home in tears, barely before lunch at that, Lafayette was beyond concerned.

He'd barely walked in the door, once again, before throwing his bag against the vinyl floor. Lafayette had been watching TV in the living area of the small apartment they shared at the time, so he had a direct line of sight to the shattered man before him.

He immediately jumped up, repeating the same motions that had been done so many times before in the past weeks. Except this time John wasn't just frustrated, he was crying full body sobs.

"Oh, mon beau, what is it?" He said and John wept into his shirt.

"I'm sorry, I can't do it anymore, I-I tried, and I can't..."

Laf pulled back momentarily, fearing the worst, "Can't do what, love?"

"Fucking Thomas. I tried ignoring him, I tried giving it right back and he just won't stop,"

"Stop what?"

"Fucking-!! I don't even know. He always has some homophobic shit to say. He keeps criticizing my work when he never even does anything!! And he... he..."

"He what?" Laf asked patiently.

"Called me a queer. And he dumped hot tea all over my new iPad."

"What?!"

"Yeah, it got all over me too. That's why I had to come home, to change."

"Did he burn you? Let me see!" Lafayette was franticly trying to peel off articles of clothing.

"Laf- Laf! Stop. Stop stop stop I-"

"You called HR right?"

John paused, "Well..."

"John!"

He sighed exasperatedly, "Look, I knew I should have, but... I am the gay guy they hired for looks and it would be crappy if I went in there and complained about... you know..."

"About harassment and assault? I think that goes far beyond looks, John! And you know that is far from the truth!"

"I don't think hot tea counts as assault."

"He destroyed your property, then."

John groaned, "Laf... can we just... do this later? I really need a nap."

Laf chewed his lip methodically, but conceded, "I suppose." Laf shifted his weight from foot to foot, feeling anxious. 

He shouldn’t feel anxious. This is his fiancé. He is here to support John. 

“I—... may I join you?” 

John looks up, a slight twinkle in his sad eyes. He knows Laf hates naps, he thinks they’re a waste of time. John just nods and Laf intertwines their fingers pulling him to the bedroom. 

As they laid together, Lafayette's fingertips gently rubbing at John's scalp while he slept, Lafayette silently prayed. To God. To Heaven. To fate. To anyone. To everyone. "Someday... I hope you get even a taste of your own medicine."

**Author's Note:**

> BIG THANK TO VIC @Broadway_trashdump (AO3) @yosoytriste (tumblr) FOR BETA/EDITING/ADDING BITS. 10/10 BEST PARENT FRIEND =)
> 
> LEAVE COMMENT PLZ it is a small price to pay for fic thanks


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